


happiness, at last

by frau_kali



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Quentin Coldwater, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, I cannot with how cute these boys are, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quentin loves Eliot so damn much, Voyeurism, let them be happy 2k19, post-monster, tiny bit of angst at the start
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 03:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18422211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frau_kali/pseuds/frau_kali
Summary: He breathed out, used to this, it had happened to him often enough. There were even times, during those months when Eliot was gone, that he woke up this way, when he managed to get sleep at all.*Lazy morning sex that turns not so lazy, Eliot whispers filthy things, Quentin discovers new kinks, and he and Eliot love each other so damn much his heart might burst with it.





	happiness, at last

**Author's Note:**

> Hallo! This is my first fic in this lovely fandom that ate my soul about three-ish weeks ago. I wrote this on a whim yesterday after I had previously written bits of it for the nsfw channel in the Queliot discord. And now here I am to deliver it on this happy Weds before the new ep airs and this show probably kills us all.
> 
> Many thanks to the Queliot discord for all the encouragement and inspiration! Now I must return to that orgasm denial sub!Q fic I was working on before.

Quentin woke up hard and aching, his cock curving upward toward his belly, begging for attention. He breathed out, used to this, it had happened to him often enough. There were even times, during those months when Eliot was gone, that he woke up this way, when he managed to get sleep at all.

He would usually ignore it, or sometimes he would force himself up, take a shower and tearfully jerk himself off to thoughts of Fillory fifty years in the past, to damp, dark curls under his hands, long fingers wrapped around his cock. To Eliot. Always, always Eliot. It was the only release of emotion he got, and he felt fucking miserable afterward, shameful that he'd taken even a moment out of a day to do those things when he could've been researching, looking for answers.

That was all over now, though, and he guessed his waking up like this was because of the warm, naked body pressed up against his back. He glanced back over his shoulder, allowing himself a little smile when he saw Eliot there, arm and leg slung over him, face pressed into his shoulder, sleeping so peacefully. Eliot looked beautiful, perfect, happy.

Quentin was happy, too. For the first time in a long time, he was really, truly, content.

He turned back to look in front of him, across the room to the window of Eliot's chambers in Whitespire where the first beams of the morning sun came out. They weren't kings anymore, but Fen had invited them back to try and find a way to undo Margo's banishment while she went about dealing with making a treaty with West Loria and the day to day of running the kingdom.

And while they were there, that simmering tension between them had finally boiled over. They'd finally talked-- well alright, they’d argued, as they stood going through legal scrolls and histories within the library. They’d argued over their emotions, Eliot’s distance since the Monster was gone, Eliot’s actions at Blackspire, all of it. And when they’d run themselves ragged, Eliot had confessed his regrets, and their anger had dissolved into kissing, which led to Eliot getting to his knees to suck Quentin off right there, where just anyone could walk in.

Thinking of this, Quentin took hold of his aching cock and began to slowly stroke himself. He didn't want to wake Eliot, yesterday's lovemaking had been vigorous and long, he didn't need the other man thinking he was a fucking addict.

Although he might be just that. He'd always been needy for it, it wasn't like Eliot didn't know that, but still. Let him rest.

Quentin held back a gasp, hand pumping his cock, thinking of how good El's warm mouth had felt around him last night, how hard El had sucked him, the way he'd played with the tip with his tongue, which Q did now with his finger… _oh_ , fuck, that was so good. Truly, Eliot Waugh was a cock sucking aficionado.

He kept going, fisting his cock, drawing on last night's memories, when he heard a groan behind him.

“Mmmm,” Eliot kissed Q's hair, hand moving along his thigh, “you started without me.”

Quentin stilled, face flushed, embarrassment shooting through him. "S-sorry... You were asleep, I didn't wanna wake you up, ya know, after all the shit we've been through, I just wanted to let you sleep…”

“It’s okay, Q,” Eliot said, entirely sincere, “and that's very sweet of you, but I have this skill, I can sense nearby erections, so you weren't gonna get to take care of that while I slept.”

Quentin turned his head away, muffling his laughter into his pillow. “You learn that in second year? Erection detection?”

Now it was Eliot's turn to hide a smile. “You mock, but ask Margo once we get her here, she'll tell you stories.”

He leaned in and kissed Q's shoulder, then continued, more sultry: “Now, go on, don't let me stop you."

Quentin stared at him, blinking, did Eliot seriously want him to just…? "I-- what? You don't wanna...”

"Not yet, you're hot like this, I'd rather just watch."

“Oh…” Quentin breathed out and Jesus, why was he suddenly so much harder than before? He'd never thought about letting anyone watch him, or about wanting anyone to, and the pure animal lust within him warred with his inhibitions now. He'd never jerked off in front of another person before.

"Relax, think about what you were before..." El whispered, hand stroking his thigh gently. “Just wrap your fingers around that pretty cock and stroke it, baby; do it for me, so I can see you come undone.”

Quentin groaned softly, how the fuck was Eliot so good at teasing out his kinks?

He did as El asked him, fingers circling his dick again, pumping slowly, thumb running along the leaking tip, using it to slick the shaft. He moaned softly, then groaned.

"That's it. God you're hot, Q," Eliot whispered in his ear, "don't be quiet, I wanna hear you."

"El... _Fuck_..." Quentin stroked faster, squeezing his cock, working himself over nicely, letting the moans fall from his lips. His skin prickled nicely, Eliot's hand on his thigh really pushing him along, like be was making tiny sparks against Quentin's skin, lighting him up.

"Yeah, so good, pretty Q," Eliot nibbled at his ear, continued whispering those filthy encouragements. "You really are insatiable, aren't you? Even last night wasn't enough for you, was it?"

"No.. no, fuck, I love you, El." Q toyed with the head of his cock now, fingers circling the tip, before he went back to pumping the length, picking up speed, moaning with his stroke, cock throbbing under his fingers.

"Mmm, I love you, too, baby," El whispered back, kissing his shoulders. They’d said the words lots of times last night, after the first time, but Quentin still felt a burst of warmth in his chest each time he heard them.

El’s lips returned to Q's ear again: "After you come for me, I'm gonna fuck you right here, like this, until you're hard again--”

“Jesus, _fuck, Eliot_ \--” Quentin moaned at that image, hips snapping forward into his hand. Eliot was hardly even touching him and already he could feel his release getting closer and closer, all because his lover was a goddamn sex god who knew how to play him just right.

“Mmmm, that's it, Q, don't stop, I love seeing your hand on your cock like that. You look so good.”

Eliot wasn't done talking yet, though, even as Quentin moaned and gasped, speeding steadily toward release. “Anyway, after I take you slow and lazy, I'm gonna fuck you hard, then push my cock in deep and come inside you. And if you're still turned on for me, I'll just have to use my mouth." He licked over Q's neck now, and Q suddenly felt the long, hard length of Eliot's cock right against his ass.

Visions of taking Eliot's sizable length into his body filled his mind, and he remembered how good it had felt last night, how he'd never felt so full before in his fucking life. And the feel of Eliot pounding into him, how that beautiful cock hit every spot as it slid in and out, in and out…

“Fuck… fuck!” Quentin shouted, his body engulfed in heat as he came hard over his hand, stroking out the final few drops.

“So pretty,” Eliot whispered, sounding utterly in awe. Quentin let out a slow, ragged breath. God, he'd never known someone watching him like that would be so fucking good. Which, of course, he knew Eliot would explore later.

In the meantime, though, Eliot took hold of his hand, bringing it up so he could lick Q's spend from his fingers. And he was absolutely fucking shameless about it, too, humming as he captured every drop on his tongue. Even just watching him sent a little jolt of pleasure to Quentin's cock, still far too soon for him to get hard again.

“Mmm, I do love how you taste, pretty Q,” Eliot said, licking his lips as he let go of Quentin's hand. “Now…” he began to slide his cock up and down against Q's hole, teasing that he might enter, but never doing it. Quentin gasped, feeling the fat head of his lover's cock _right there_ was just perfect.

And then he felt Eliot trace the pattern for the spell across his skin and suddenly he was all wet inside. He gasped, unsure if he'd ever get used to that, but at least it was warm. And it made enough for Eliot to slick his cock, too, which Quentin saw him doing when he looked back.

He couldn't help how his mouth watered at the sight of Eliot's beautiful cock, all big and hard and slick, ready to fuck him. Quentin’s experience with guys was limited, but he had seen a few cocks, had even sucked a couple of guys off in college, but he’d never seen one so beautiful and nice as Eliot Waugh’s.

“You're still good and open, aren't you, Q? From all those times you took my cock last night.” Eliot slid three fingers into him then, just to make his point, and Quentin moaned out at the feel of it.

“Yeah, yeah, c'mon, El, fuck me, do it, it'll be so good, just-- give it to me already.” Quentin pushed his body back against those fingers. God, Eliot knew just how to wind him right up.

With a little nip to his neck, Eliot withdrew his fingers and the next thing Quentin knew, that fat cock head was pushing past his tight ring of muscle and pushing inside.

Nice and slow, sliding right into him, that long shaft stroking every sensitive spot on its way to bottom out.

Quentin didn't feel any pain this time, not like last night when Eliot had fucked him against the nearby pillar, his legs wrapped right around Eliot's thighs, that thick long cock pushing into him perfectly. And that had only been the first time.

“Q, you feel so perfect, baby, so tight,” Eliot groaned against his ear as he finally, beautifully, bottomed out, his groin pressed firmly against Quentin's ass. “How does it feel?”

Quentin practically whined at the question--how did it _feel_? He was in Fillory, the magical land of his childhood, comfortably sheltered in a lovely bed, stuffed full of his lover's big cock, the same that he'd taken three different ways yesterday.

How did it feel. Hah. There was only one answer: “Like heaven, El,” he whispered, “like everything good in the world, like I was made to take it.”

“Oh, Q, I think you _were_ ,” Eliot said, a smile in his words. And then he gave a slow rock of his hips, hid dick sliding out a little before moving right back in. “And that?” He asked, even as Quentin whined.

“ _More_ , please, El, just fuck me,” Quentin said, the words practically whined out. He gripped at the sheets, and Eliot didn't tease for once. Instead he drew back out and pushed in once more, that beautifully big cock hitting all the right places on its way in and out.

And then he was off, fucking into Quentin, hips rolling forward, filling him up so good. Eliot kept the pace moderate, slow, just as he'd said he would, panting into Quentin's ear with each deep thrust.

“Such a good boy,” Eliot groaned against him, giving a harder snap of his hips now, “you take it so well.”

Quentin moaned at the sudden hard thrust, Eliot's cock shoving up into him again, so good and _deep_. He gasped, he hadn't admitted it, but he was damn sure El knew he loved being called a good boy, loved when El praised him.

The way his cock was hard again certainly made that damn clear.

“Q, I wanna put you on your hands and knees, so I can fuck you so hard you forget everything but my name,” Eliot drawled in his ear, his hand sliding down along Quentin's chest and pulling at each of his nipples in turn, making Quentin cry out.

“Yeah! Yeah, do that, El, _comeonplease_!”

Once more there was no teasing, it was as if Quentin's begging just set Eliot off this time, and he pulled out quickly, manhandling Q up onto his hands and knees.

And holy fuck, so much for lazy morning sex, but _holy fuck_! Quentin's cock was leaking already, hanging hard and aching between his legs. And Eliot manhandling him like that must've _absolutely_ had something to do with it.

He didn't get much time to think about it, though, because Eliot pushed his cock back into him, not going slow or taking his time now. No, now he gripped Quentin's hips, pounding into him hard, pulling him back onto his cock.

Every thrust sent sparks flying right to Quentin's cock, scattering his thoughts, making it near impossible to form new ones. It was almost too much, having Eliot's perfect cock so deep in him, the slide of it in and out of him, the way El would pull back right to the tip only to shove forward again.

Quentin began to moan loud right in time with those thrusts, shoving his hips back, letting every bit of pleasure take over, letting himself forget everything but _EliotEliotEliot_.

“I'm close, Q, so close, you're so good and tight,” El said, voice rough, hands sliding over Quentin's hips. And then he leaned forward ever so slightly, pulling Quentin up just a bit, altering his angle, before he began those long, deliberate thrusts once more.

Just when he thought maybe it was too much, Quentin screamed as Eliot's cock hit that perfect, sensitive spot instead him, that one place guaranteed to set him off more than any other.

“Eliot-- El-- fuck, yeah, rightthere, sogood!” He practically shouted the words, clenching around Eliot's cock each time it hit his prostate now.

_That_ made Eliot cry out, too, of course, but still he kept pounding in hard, kept hitting that spot where Q needed it the most. It was amazing, beautiful, wonderful, every other word in the English language, none of which Quentin could even fucking _think_ of right now when he had Eliot fucking him just right, Eliot's cock slamming into him, striking that little bundle of nerves. If he kept this up, Quentin thought maybe he might even be able to come without even being touched.

Eliot, it seemed, couldn't hold out that long, not with the way Quentin kept clenching around him, anyway. He moaned loudly, shoving in deep, and Quentin felt that sweet wet heat explode inside him as Eliot came.

Quentin turned his head, looking over his shoulder, back at Eliot, just to watch him come undone, to see his face bathed in the utter bliss of orgasm. And to know that _he_ was responsible, that Eliot was coming so hard because he’d been inside _Quentin_ , that only fed into Quentin’s own please.

“Fuck… fuck, so good for me, Q…” Eliot sighed, meeting his eyes for a moment before slowly pulling his softening cock out. Quentin groaned at that, closing his eyes for a moment because fuck, he was so sensitive there, and he was grateful El took special care with him.

He collapsed onto his side now, and Eliot quickly pushed him to his back. “Mmm, let's take care of this,” Eliot said, wrapping his hand around Quentin's aching cock.

“ _Oh_!” Quentin gasped out, hips snapping up automatically into El's hand. He gripped at the sheets once more, his gaze wandering over Eliot, really getting to drink in the sight of him now.

And oh, Christ, El was beautiful like this, eyes blown black, hair disheveled from last night, damp from this morning's activities, his skin all wet. He sat on his knees between Quentin's legs, working Quentin's cock with such single mindedness.

“El, Eliot-- yeah, just-- a little more...” Quentin moaned, continuing push up into Eliot's hand as he stroked his cock quickly.

“That’s good, pretty Q, come for me,” Eliot said, leaning down and wrapping his lips around the head of Quentin's cock, sucking him hard into his mouth.

“Ohhh, fuck… fuuuuck…” Quentin managed to cry out, his hand landing in Eliot's hair, fingers sliding through those lovely wet curls as he let himself fall, let the pleasure overtake him for a second time, coming even harder than he had earlier, guided along by Eliot's expert mouth, and the beautiful ache he felt in his ass where Eliot's cock had filled him up just right.

Eliot kept at it, sucking him lightly now, drawing out every last drop until the pleasure retreated and it became almost painful. He groaned, pushing at Eliot's head until he finally stopped, pulling off.

Quentin only managed to keep his hand on Eliot's hair because Eliot kept hold of it as he flopped down beside him, clasping that hand in both of his own. He cuddled up beside Quentin, drawing the blankets back up over them.

“Good morning,” he whispered, kissing Quentin's forehead.

“Hey,” Quentin replied softly, looking into Eliot's eyes, lost in the warmth of his soft gaze.

Eliot began to slide his fingers gently through Quentin's hair, and Q leaned into that touch, becoming even more relaxed.

“We should probably get up soon,” Quentin ventured, before he could fall asleep, “and keep working.”

Eliot sighed. “Yeah, for Bambi's sake.” He smiled fondly then. “Although she did lecture me about working things out with you.”

“Me, too,” Quentin said. He hadn't believed her when she insisted Eliot was a self sabotaging moron determined to fuck up his life instead of trying to be happy. Well, alright, he'd believed _that_ part, he knew it himself, knew he was the same way. But that didn't erase the mountains of self doubt he felt over Eliot rejecting him, and he hadn't been about to go out on a limb again.

Good thing Eliot had ventured onto that limb first, all in the midst of weeks of boiled over sexual tension.

“Let me guess,” Eliot said, adopting a stern but not mocking impression of Margo's tone: “'you and El better get your shit together, Coldwater!’”

“Yeah, but maybe just a little bit angrier. She also said something about not letting our drama fuck up her getting back to Fillory.”

Eliot sighed then. “I hate to say it, Q, but it can't be called Everlasting Banishment for nothing, if anything could undo it, it wouldn't be very Everlasting.” Quentin could hear the defeat in his voice, and he knew he blamed himself for Margo's fate, she'd given up her home, her kingdom, to save him. And he didn't think she deserved that. 

But telling Eliot that wasn't going to do much, it would be like telling him things would get better. It wasn't Eliot's fault, but Quentin would've blamed himself much the same if their roles were reversed.

Besides, he could do one better: “Actually, that reminds me-- I remembered-- in the books, there's this story that gets mentioned when Richard is king, about someone returning from Everlasting Banishment, it's the first time it ever happens-- the one who was banished has complete these _trials_ , and like they're all really clever subversions of the usual quest tropes, like the fight to the death is--” he stopped, because Eliot was watching him with this odd, open fondness, head resting on his forearms. “What?”

“You're adorable when you fanboy.” Eliot smiled. “Go on.”

Quentin felt something warm and soft coil up in his chest, settling in right by his heart. He'd never met anyone who kept listening to him, who _wanted_ to listen to him, when he got all excited like this. Usually they'd stop him or try to make him focus, but none of them looked at him the way Eliot did, the way Eliot often had, with such love.

So, picking back up a bit awkwardly, his cheeks warm, Quentin told him about the trials. And as he did, he let himself bask once more in that sweet feeling of contentment, that _happiness_ , that he never thought he'd have.

Things weren't perfect, no, he and Eliot would have difficulties, they were both pretty fucked up. Yet for the first time Quentin felt, truly, like it was gonna be okay. So long as he and El were together, they could do anything, because they worked.

_Fin._


End file.
